Caterpillar found coffee.
Weekday in. Weekday out. They all seem to start the same. In search of coffee and food.
5 a.m. alarm. Nope, I’m hitting snooze; that 9 minutes will clearly make all the difference in the world.
Work out? Why am I doing this? Get it over with before body knows what you’re doing. Fantasize about still being in bed throughout entire routine. Haha. Just kidding. I went back to bed. I love sleep. There is never enough…
Shower, stare at closet for a while to pick out clothes. Wonder why no magical woodland creatures suddenly appear to dress me.
Turn on morning news. Check email. Respond to email. Grumble about adulthood.
Wake up boys. Remind boys to wake up. Beg boys to wake up. Threaten to take boys to school in their pajamas.
Coffee. Lots of coffee.
Shoe children. Coerce them into the car. Open garage before backing out. Back out of driveway without driving over anything.
We are ready for the day to begin. Or at least awake enough to find more coffee.
Sound asleep. Snoring, arm hanging out of bed, stuffed elephant lovie flung over his face to block out the light.
“But I’m still tired…” Rolls over. Hides under covers.
Melts out of bed toward bunk ladder. Stand up on top rung and hurls self off bunk bed onto beanbag chair below.
Screams, “Mommy! I can’t find any yellow fours!” (Referring to khaki pants that have mostly survived daily wear and tear.)
Sitting naked on the floor of his room. Looks confused.
Risky Business slides into the master bedroom, ready to watch morning cartoons.
Appears in room wearing outfit that can only be described as an “artistic creation.” Apparently encouraging Mom to make a reminder to ask the pediatrician about color blindness. Fully aware parents will pick their battles – and stylistic design before morning coffee isn’t going to be mom’s Alamo stand.
Search and Destroy
Get herded out the door. Open garage. Get strapped into car seats. Wait for mom to buckle herself in. Announce you’re hungry and need a snack RIGHT NOW.
Oh my god. I’m hungry. They’re never going to feed me. I’M GOING TO DIE OF STARVATION. Charge them all. Run into walls. Spin in circles. Chase my tail. FEED ME!
We are ready to begin countdown to freaking out about when dinner will be served.
I think I’ll go back to bed now. It really is a dog’s life. And I’ll just find human food to eat after they all scurry off. Or really, anything I can reach on the counter.
Oooh, bubbles. Paper towels. Yum! Just need a good spatula to finish such a gourmet meal.